


Anghysur

by Ezlebe



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: Gen, Gossip, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:05:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy wishes he could outsource this to Doris, since he's less than qualified to even care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anghysur

"I mean - " Angel abruptly scoffs and scrubs his hands through his hair. "You were in his year, right? Have you heard... Anything?"

Andy Wainwright raises his eyebrows and glances out the office window, making desperate eye contact with Andy Cartwright, who nods with an exaggerated expression of consolation before looking away.

The bastard.

"Well, sir," Andy starts, only slightly sarcastic and taking a deep breath as he turns his attention back to Angel. "To be honest, we're not exactly friends."

"I'm not an idiot, Inspector," Angel says, voice muffled as he speaks into his hands. "I asked if you heard anything, not if he told you anything."

"There were rumors, but I never - no one ever - " Andy grimaces as he speaks, trying to word it in a way that wouldn't get his pay docked. "There were one, from Glastonbury,  and I remember seeing them in the pub a time or two... And - " He covers his mouth for a moment, brows furrowing hard as he stares at the wood of the desk. After a moment, he leans in, going for conspiratorial, "You know, the Inspector must've been offing them."

"…What?" Angel asks, emphasizing heavily on the word.

Andy raises his eyebrows and shrugs pointedly, reaching into his jacket for his pack by rote and starting to get into the spirit. "I seen him with both blokes and birds, except not the last couple years, obviously. They always move house or stop hanging round, and we never see them again. I always thought cause it were Danny and he just couldn't keep a girl, but he ain't that bad, not really - least if you can get past him probably wanting to go to the cinema every bloody date."

"Actually, I just meant - "

"He killed a man for trimming hedges!" Andy exclaims, gesturing widely. "Of course he'd kill them because of his kid."

"I'm not disagreeing, Detective, but I - "

"Do you remember seeing a skeleton in there with a blue jumper?" Andy interrupts, leaning in towards Angel's desk. "I remember that bloke from Somerset always wore one, with stripes going down the arm."

"Andy!" Angel snaps, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not inquiring on the status of Sgt. Butterman's sexuality, or his past partners' current whereabouts, I'm merely curious if you've heard about him being interested in me."

"Well, then, now I'm curious about how you ain't worried that the old Inspector'll off you from behind bars, because he would, I bet," Andy says, equally as direct and pointing an as-of-yet unlit cigarette in Angel's direction. "You best watch your back, mate."

"He's already tried to kill me, multiple times, so can we please - "

"Course he does," Andy interrupts with another shrug, enjoying the irritated look it earns him from Angel. "He probably would've asked you to fucking marry him right off after shooting up the village, if it weren't for that old bastard Weaver trying to kill us all."

Angel is silent for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. "Forgive me for disbelieving you, but nothing has happened in the eighteen months since then, calling into question your assumption."

“He was in hospital for four fuckin' months, give the poor bastard a break," Andy says, rolling his eyes as he takes the risk and lights his cigarette. He's fairly sure Angel's too concerned with gossiping to make any comment about the state of his lungs. "Besides, he probably still thinks he dreamed you up, like that Greek bastard, what's-his-face - "

"Pygmalion," Angel provides, voice dry and still disbelieving.

"You basically make-a-wish'd his fucking thirty-fifth birthday, Nicholarse - "

"I revealed his dad and the rest of the village elders were a murdering, psychopathic cult," Angel interrupts, mouth twisting into a grimace as he leans back in his chair. "I stole his only family away."

"Come on," Andy scoffs, rolling his eyes hard. "Now you're just making up excuses."

Angel raises his eyebrows.

"Murdering. Psychopath. Cult." Andy repeats, counting off on his fingers as he says the words. "Three reasons that's a bullshit excuse, right there."

"Eighteen months - "

"Alright, alright," Andy interrupts, taking a long drag and collecting his rebuttal. "Say his dad has been killing off all the people who get too close to him? He probably thinks they all just suddenly hated him, eh? So he's probably got the self worth of a damned postage stamp, and admittedly I ain't helped that none, but neither has anyone else, so there."

Angel gives him a slightly disgusted look, before it falls into something more contemplative, even sad. He glances up again, after a long moment, and twists his mouth to the side. "The first time I met him, he was engaging in drink-driving."

"Weren't the first time," Andy says, breaking eye contact with a shrug. He takes another drag and glances out towards the bullpen: Doris and Danny are hunched over something on the main table, Tony is staring blankly at a clipboard with his eyes furrowed, and Andy's giving him the two fingers behind his own papers.

The way this conversation is turning, he'd sell his fucking arm to join whatever the fuck is going on out there.

"Okay," Angel says sharply, taking a deep breath.

Andy looks back to him, raising an eyebrow, "Okay?"

"Thank you for your time, Detective Inspector Wainwright," Angel says, then nods shortly towards the door.

"You're weird as hell, Nick," Andy says as he gets up, rolling his eyes and kicking the chair back.

"As I have requested on many, many occasions," Angel says, looking at him with familiar resignation. "Please do not shorten my name in any way whatsoever."

"Saving that for between the sheets then?" Andy says, a bit too loudly, just after he opens the door with a wide smirk.

He regrets it slightly after he looks over the precinct to see that, while most of the room is laughing, Danny's hardly hiding an outright scowl; times like these, he warily recalls that just because Danny acts all cuddly, doesn’t mean he didn’t once accidentally break a boy’s arm in a rugby match.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, apologies for any grammatical errors or inaccurate characterizations.


End file.
